I stepped through the door, and Fang and I regarded each other. He used to take one look at me and flatten his elongated black ears against his substantial neck. Our last visit had gone differently, considering my wulf had been raw and exposed at the time.
Fang’s nostrils flared as he sucked in my scent. He had thoughts, this donkey. Far too many, most times. Walter had him tied to a stout post along the aisle, and after his quick sniff, he backed away until he ran out of rope. It seemed he remembered our last meeting.
Walter positioned himself on the far side of the animal’s well-rounded body and took hold of his halter. Even though the owner was a big man, I’d seen Fang throw him like he weighed nothing at all. Walter functioned more like a sea anchor—he smoothed out the roughest bits but hardly rooted anything to the ground.
I slipped a hand into my pocket and folded fingers around the syringe I had hidden there. Darren came in behind me with his armload of equipment and set it down out of donkey range. Then he stood with crossed arms, watching the show.
I’d learned long ago that only the direct approach worked with Fang. He scorned any attempt on my part to be friendly or deliberately nonchalant. As I walked up to him, the skin around his nose and lips wrinkled, and his lower jaw moved, a distinct chewing motion with tongue involvement. In most equines, this showed acceptance of a situation, but with Fang it was equivalent to cocking a gun.
Alrighty then.
“Here, now. You behave.” Walter pulled on the halter and Fang raised his head, blocking the farmer’s view of me.
I made sure the donkey’s big dark eye looked right at me. Next, I summoned the wulf.
Fang’s eyes widened and he snorted, but his ears waved. Just like the last time, my combination of human and wulf scent confused him. I took one long stride toward him and he stepped away, pushing Walter against the wall. I found the jugular, pushed in the needle, pulled on the plunger to ensure I was in the right spot, and shot the sedative into the vein in a smooth, practiced movement. Then I retreated, shoving the predator back down.
Apparently as a rookie to the process, I was only partially successful. Walter squeezed out from behind Fang and glanced at me before I could look away. His gaze widened. “Christ, Liam. What’s wrong with your eyes?”
I blinked. The colors of the barn’s interior dropped back into the normal human range, and I looked back at Walter.
“Nothing. Why?”
He frowned and shook his head. “I thought—never mind, I’m picking up my new glasses in a week. Guess I need them.”
Fang’s head and ears drooped, and I smiled at Darren. “He’s all yours,” I said.
17
I grinned when I saw who waited for Keen and me at home. From the passenger seat, my co-pilot wiggled a welcome. She barely contained herself long enough for me to unfasten her before she bounced out the door.
Josh stood with Peter at the edge of the driveway. He’d said he would come tonight, but he’d arrived early. The bag he handed to Peter before saying hi to Keen offered a clue.
“Is that Lee’s?”
Josh grinned—his teeth white against his brown skin. “Thought we’d feast before we run.”
In the ordinary human world, that would be the wrong order to do things, but we needed to run under the cover of darkness and had a few hours yet. The early May evening promised warmth, and with the earth coming to life all around us, I craved the exercise. I glanced at Peter and noticed he looked a little flushed.
“You feeling okay?” I asked as we headed toward the house.
“Yeah, fine. Didn’t get enough sleep last night. Kept having nightmares.”
Peter still didn’t remember much about the evening of the attack. Over these last few days, I’d noticed his short-term memory had occasional lapses. It worried me, but Doc Hayek’s latest checkup indicated Peter was doing fine. At one hundred and twenty something, he wasn’t a young wulfan. Although apparently, they could reach one hundred and fifty.
We, I reminded myself. We have extended lives.
I turned when we reached the stairs to my suite in the basement. “I’ll be up in a sec. Gonna jump in the shower.”
“Yeah, you stink like antiseptic.” Josh grinned.
“Could be worse. At least it drowns the other smells.”
Keen hovered between us—three of her favorite people in one group had her in doggy heaven. I waved her on to them. “Go with Josh.”
She barked and followed them up the deck steps while I descended to the suite.
I removed my work clothes and threw them in the laundry. Moments later, I stood beneath the pounding water letting the heat soak into my shoulders. It had been a good day, better than expected. I’d been able to keep the wulf buried deep enough that I didn’t freak out the animals, even the horse I’d examined. And the glimpse of wulf I’d used for Fang’s sedation had worked rather well.
I turned off the shower and grabbed a towel just as my cell phone on the table lit up—Dan Reynolds singing about his inner demon. An actual call this time.
“Hi there, soldier. How was your first day back in harness?”
Her voice, husky with a slight burr, made my heart flip over. I was acutely aware of the towel I clutched around my waist. “Uh, good. Really good.”
“No one ran away screaming?”
I laughed. “Nope. Didn’t eat anyone, either. How are things going there?” I winced, regretting that my uncertainty had taken the conversation out of the personal and into the issue that had pulled Chris back to Brandon.
Her voice reflected the change. “Not so good. Any leads on the rogue wulfleng dried up. It’s got my dad and Chris tied in knots.”
“Not you, though?”
“I roll with the punches. Worrying accomplishes nothing.”
I laughed. That so sounded like Sam.
“I’ll let you go,” she continued. “I
